Down Creek Road
by PippinStrange
Summary: From the journal of John Watson. Sherlock and John are on the sensitive case of an abducted child who disappeared somewhere between the bus stop and her home on Creek Road. Based on a real case.


**dearest readers,**

**chronologically, this takes place between The Sign of Three and His Last Vow. **

**please enjoy.**

* * *

**dedicated to Ashley and Miranda.**

**I'm sorry they didn't find you in time.**

* * *

Chapter One

Introduction

"Listen, Mary," I said, lowering the newspaper down from eye level. My wife sat across from me, resting on the couch, one hand massaging the place on her belly where the baby kicked the most. "I think I might pop over to Baker Street tonight. See how it's going."

She peered from behind her book, _Ten Things Every First-Time Mother Should Know. _"Yeah, okay," she said, slightly flummoxed at the way I presented my plans, as if waiting for her to tell me that I couldn't go. Which, admittedly, I was.

"You sure you're good?" I asked.

She held her place in the book with one finger and turned it down, spine up, to give me her full attention. "John," she said lightly, "If you are looking for an excuse to stay, I can give you one."

"Good, right then," I said, satisfied.

"_Can_ doesn't mean _I will_, however," she continued, earning a glare. "I am not due for a month. When the baby comes you'll _certainly _have a reason to be a recluse and a homebody. You think I want to spend the first week with a newborn child wondering if you and Sherlock have gotten into a life threatening situation? I shouldn't think so."

"So I shall stay, then?"

"No!" Mary exclaimed. "A month, John, a month. Go to Sherlock. Find a case, something small and domestic. Solve it. Have a bucket of laughs. Write a blog. Let me read my instruction manuals."

"Shouldn't I read them, too?"

"I'll tell you the important bits."

"And should you go into labor..."

"I won't."

"Children are born premature, it happens..."

"According to your medical expertise, my weight, size, and the baby's development, do you have any reason to suspect I'm going to go into labor _tonight?"_

"No..."

"Then tonight, you're free to solve a case."

"You mean observe Sherlock solve a case."

"As long as you're watching him _solve, _not blow someone's brains out."

I winced, and felt my cheek twinge slightly. "I hope to God that's not on the agenda for tonight." I stood, stretched, then bent down and kissed her. She looped her arms around my neck, and one simple goodbye kiss was beginning to duplicate into bedroom kisses. "Are you fairly certain I have no other way to spend my evening?" I asked.

"Not tonight," she kissed me again. "Love you. Say goodbye to Little One."

I knelt beside the couch and leaned over her belly, whispering, "Goodbye, Little One." I kissed her stomach, and then kissed her lips one last time. "Daddy will come back soon."

"Not too soon, I hope," she replied, unable to stop smiling.

...

Baker St was quiet. I put my key in, entered a silent entry, and removed my coat to hang on the peg beside the famous Sherlock hat. Mrs. Hudson still hadn't changed the locks, and refused to accept the keys I still possessed. I put them in my pocket, as usual. After the baby came, I might just put them in the candy dish on the table and pretend to leave them behind.

There was a soft sound from Mrs. Hudson's apartment. Something like crying. "Mrs. Hudson?" I called, not wanting to knock on the door and startle her.

The door opened slightly. "Hello, John," she greeted cordially, dabbing slightly at her eye.

"Is everything all right?" I asked.

"Oh, it's fine, dear..." Mrs. Hudson waved me off and gestured upstairs with a pointed finger. "I just had a bit of a cry earlier, nothing to worry about... I overheard Sherlock's client. It made me very sad... I just had to shed a quick tear for them. I'm all right, though."

"All right, as long as you're okay." I paused at the base of the stairs. "So, Sherlock has a case then. Did he accept it?"

"They're still discussing it," Mrs. Hudson answered. "I overheard while I was taking up some tea, and some tissues for the client. It's a nasty business, it is."

"What is it?"

"Missing child," she said, with a frown and a shake of her head. I felt my stomach turn over. _In a few years, that could be my child. _"They are not publicizing this, so it wouldn't be in the papers. Go on up and see for yourself. They could use some... comforting words."

"Sherlock being charming, as usual, is he?"

"He told the parents they failed as protectors of their child."

"I'd best go up straight away, then."

...

I entered the sitting room and found Sherlock standing at the window, arms clasped behind his back and staring down at the two figures on the couch as if they were specimens.

The parents looked at me in surprise. The man was of medium height, white, red-haired, wearing glasses and a plaid coat, giving him a rumpled but comfortable look. The woman was shorter, dark skinned and black-haired, dressed in second-hand business attire that did not detract from her professional appearance. I observed them briefly enough, but spending time with Sherlock made me notice more at first glance than I thought I ever would.

"Ah, yes, John, thank-you for coming," Sherlock said as if he had invited me. "This is my esteemed colleague, Dr. John Watson, and he usually accompanies me on my cases."

"How d'you do," said the man, standing to shake my hand. Then his wife shook my hand as well. Wife, of which I can be sure, and not girlfriend or estranged spouse, since they wore matching wedding rings. _Damn you Sherlock. _

"This is Mr. and Mrs. Thomas," said Sherlock.

"If this is a bad time, I can come back later," I said politely.

"No, please," said Sherlock. "Stay. Mary urged you to occupy yourself for awhile, after all."

Sometimes I couldn't tell if he baited me with statements like this, or if I truly wondered anymore. "And _how_ did you know that?" I asked.

"She texted me?" Sherlock answered with a raised eyebrow, wriggling his phone at me as if I didn't know what texting was. "She said you were on your way. Now. To business. We've been talking..."

"Lecturing," interjected Mrs. Thomas, her eyes puffy with tears recently shed. "You've been lecturing us. Of course I was under the impression we were hiring a private detective, not a god damn guilt-trip."

"Consulting detective," Sherlock responded flatly. "I felt the need to consult you both on your lapse of care."

"Sherlock," I exclaimed. "Can I see you a minute? Privately?"

Sherlock sighed and followed me dutifully into the kitchen.

"What good can it possibly do to make them feel horrible about themselves?" I asked.

"I've hardly begun," he protested.

"No, no, no," I held up a finger. "You've begun, and it's over. Now. Move on. These people have been through a trauma. They don't need you sniveling over them like that voice inside your head reminding you of what you've done wrong."

"Don't be poetic, John, is doesn't suit you."

"You are _not _being hired to be-well, whatever _that _was. You have a job to do. Find their missing child and reunite them. They will willingly listen to any scolding you could possibly have for them when they have their daughter in their arms again."

"And how do YOU know their daughter was abducted?"

My lip twitched. "I am not entirely useless. I've picked up a thing here and there."

He paused, squinting at me. Oh, no, he couldn't possibly _allow _me to have a clever moment. "You spoke to Mrs. Hudson," he inferred with a victorious smile.

"I did," I said, "But statistics and probability informed my hypothesis that it was an abducted daughter. Mrs. Hudson didn't tell me that. And I'm right."

It was Sherlock's turn to twitch slightly. "Yes."

"Then let's get on with the bloody case. These poor people have suffered enough."

A pause.

"Very well."

* * *

**please review and let me know what you think and if I should continue.**


End file.
